Chapter 15: Encountering Little Shin Again, Aoi Iwata

Chapter 15: Encountering Little Shinobu Again, Iwata Ran

In the late 1980s, young people eager to enter the entertainment world mostly flocked to Shibuya to chase their dreams. Yet, in reality, Shinjuku was the true birthplace of such aspirations.

Back in the early 1960s, the Shinjuku Bunka Theater opened, built by Toho. After the final movie screening each day, around 9:30 p.m., live theatrical performances would begin. In 1967, Yukio Mishima founded “Scorpio” in the basement of this very theater, inspired by his favorite film, “The Scorpio Rises.”

This marked the dawn of Tokyo’s underground theater scene, radiating outward with many similar small theaters emerging nearby, drawing countless young dreamers. These hopefuls threw themselves into the craft, regardless of meager pay—or even no pay—and often with empty auditoriums, yet they gave their all to perform.

Though Scorpio had long since lost its former glory, many food stalls still populated the area. At one ramen stall, two customers arrived, greeted warmly by the owner, who was soon startled by their imposing presence. As he sliced meat, his knife slipped, ruining two pieces—his heart sank; these two looked fierce indeed.

The newcomers were not only fierce but tall and formidable.

“Iwata-san, I’m sorry for the trouble…” one said.

“Don’t mention it, Ato,” Iwata replied. “It’s just a bowl of ramen.”

“Thanks.”

“By the way, here’s the script.”

“Ah, thank you…”

Ato was none other than Toyo Matsushige. Speaking of names, Matsushige’s surname amusingly sounded like “pine mushroom,” prompting Iwata Takeshi to joke about calling him “Mushroom-chan.” The idea of this fierce, towering man nicknamed “Little Mushroom” made him chuckle.

Yet, despite their brief encounter, Iwata sensed a stark contrast between Matsushige’s rough exterior and his true nature beneath.

This chance meeting was truly serendipitous—like searching high and low only to find what you sought without effort. Stripping away coincidence, what remained was inevitability. To eavesdrop on Suo and Moriyama’s conspiracy, Iwata needed a servant of similar build to swap clothes with. Interestingly, if Matsushige had donned a mask during the stakeout, they might have missed each other entirely.

Furthermore, had the underground theaters in Shinjuku paid better, Matsushige wouldn’t have needed to work at a food stall, and Iwata wouldn’t have met him.

All the more reason for Iwata to seize this rare encounter.

Matsushige’s thoughts, however, were very different. He never imagined he’d find an acting opportunity in a nightclub. Before Iwata appeared a second time, Matsushige thought the earlier offer was a dream, as if the night at the Red Romance was but a fleeting illusion.

But now, holding the actual script—a brilliant one at that—he was captivated.

The story hit close to home, vividly portraying scenes like youths beating a homeless man. He had seen such things firsthand. Even those boys came from decent families; such cruelty was sadly unsurprising.

Reading further, he understood.

“Iwata-san, do you want me to play Kiyohiro?”

Kiyohiro was the ruthless assassin in “The Violent Man,” cold and merciless.

Iwata nodded.

Of course. With Hakuryu unavailable and Matsushige present, who else could it be?

But Matsushige hesitated.

“I, I really…” he stammered.

Seeing his hesitation, Iwata slapped his shoulder. “You look perfect for the role!”

Matsushige felt an unprecedented encouragement. His face had long been criticized in small theaters; now it was valued.

He nodded firmly. “Thank you! I’ll do my utmost to play this role well!”

Overjoyed, Iwata added, “Filming will start soon.”

“Really?”

“This summer. I estimate shooting will wrap within a week.”

“Fantastic!”

“No problem, right?”

“None at all!”

Though Matsushige said so, he felt immense pressure. Yet this was a film—his dream come true.

Iwata keenly observed every change in Matsushige’s demeanor, thoroughly pleased. If he could recruit Matsushige, the Iwata troupe would boast two formidable men… though that sounded a bit odd.

Just then, their ramen arrived.

Both noticed there was more meat than usual.

The stall owner’s smile remained, tinged with awkwardness and sweat on his brow.

No more words—best to eat while it’s hot.

Slurp, slurp…

Finishing their meal, they prepared to part ways. Matsushige suddenly felt shy.

“If there’s anything you want to say, just say it.”

“Well… when filming, could you please not call me ‘Mushroom-chan’?”

At this, Iwata burst into laughter, nodding. So someone had beaten him to the nickname.

…

“Really? Is it true?”

“Yes, truly.”

“I get to play the lead?”

“Though the lead, the role isn’t very large.”

“It’s still the lead!”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? Trying to show off in front of your sister?”

“Ha ha ha…”

“Ah? Still laughing? You really think that way!”

“No, no… Ah, sis~”

“Wait till I fix you!”

Little Shinobu returned home in her school uniform to great news.

Summer break was near, and the uncle’s film was really happening.

Though she trusted the uncle was kind, a movie—that was no small matter.

Hearing her sister Miho’s words, how could Shinobu not be thrilled?

Yet Miho’s mood was complicated. During her time with the Iwata troupe, a certain man had frightened her so much she had nightmares for three days straight. Even the agency asked if she needed a break.

Impossible!

Now, with the film progressing so swiftly, that man—Iwata Takeshi—was indeed impressive.

Miho knew little about the movie’s details; only that a renowned director like Akio Jissouji had high hopes.

Watching her sister’s joy, Miho felt an inexplicable twinge of jealousy.

Strange.

Shinobu didn’t dwell on such thoughts; she kept asking eagerly.

“Did you meet the uncle again?”

“No, just by phone.”

“Is he alright?”

“How should I know!”

“Oh, the script? Did I get one?”

“No.”

“No way!”

“Really, no.”

“Could it be…”

“Enough, get ready; we’re going to Kanagawa.”

“Huh?”

Curious as ever, Shinobu thought going to Kanagawa was wonderful—but why no script?

…

Kanagawa wasn’t far from Tokyo, about an hour or two’s drive.

Inside the car, Shinobu frequently glanced out the window.

Her heart was eager, tinged with anxiety and a hint of fear—not of the uncle, but of whether she could portray the ‘lead’ well.

She knew the role was a girl with intellectual disabilities.

Though that saddened her somewhat, such an opportunity was too precious to pass.

From another perspective, such a character suited a novice perfectly.

Lost in thought, the car stopped.

The sound of the sea greeted her immediately upon stepping out.

This was Kanagawa, the setting of the famous painting “The Great Wave off Kanagawa,” where the ocean’s grandeur was undeniable.

Shinobu longed to see the sea, knowing it was vastly different from Tokyo Bay.

Years ago, Tokyo Bay had signs warning people not to swim there.

Kanagawa’s sea, however, was magnificent—so blue, so beautiful.

“Oh, why the rush?” her sister Miho teased, accompanying her.

But Shinobu’s childlike excitement was unstoppable.

Dressed in casual clothes rather than her school uniform, she ran joyfully along the road, soon revealing the vast, blue ocean before her.

So blue!

Under the sun, it shimmered like a colossal sapphire.

Wait.

Shinobu spotted a figure.

A man in a white shirt, holding his suit jacket, leaning on the railing, gazing at the sea.

She felt inexplicably happy and quickened her pace.

“Uncle!”

Indeed, it was Iwata Takeshi, who quickly turned upon hearing her voice, wary she might try to kick him again.

Seeing her approach with such energy, it seemed she might repeat her antics.

Iwata’s face hardened. “What uncle? I’m not an uncle!”

Shinobu’s prank failed, leaving her displeased. “You are an uncle!”

For some reason, the term sounded amusing.

“I’m not an uncle!” Iwata pouted like a tsundere.

“Ha ha… You really are! Shinobu’s very polite.”

This…

Iwata sighed helplessly. “You brat, call me ‘brother.’”

“Oh?” Shinobu understood this was about the film and immediately asked, “What about the script?”

Iwata chuckled. “You don’t need a script.”

Huh?

Shinobu was puzzled but thought this might be one of the uncle’s special talents.

Then she asked, “What were you just looking at?”

“The sea.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s blue.”

“Just that?”

“Yes. Want to watch together?”

“Sure!”

Iwata turned back to face the sea, now with Shinobu beside him.

Why watch the sea because it’s blue?

Takeshi Kitano’s films always featured a shade called “Kitano Blue,” beloved by many.

Now, this was “Iwata Blue.”

Yes, even more beautiful than before.

…

When Miho came running over, she saw this scene:

Iwata and Shinobu side by side, facing the ocean. The sea was so blue, the breeze gently lifted their clothes and hair.

Even as a film shot, it was perfect.

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(End of chapter)